


Five Times Sam Wanted to Be Called Sam and the One Time he Didn’t

by Insanefangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Before Stanford Era, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester’s Parent, F/M, Pre-Canon, Stanford Era, Teenchesters, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25518040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insanefangirl/pseuds/Insanefangirl
Summary: Sam has grown up hating being called Sammy. It made him feel like the little kid he was trying to show his dad and brother he wasn’t. He hates it until he doesn’tOrJust what the title says
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester/Jessica Moore
Comments: 6
Kudos: 133





	Five Times Sam Wanted to Be Called Sam and the One Time he Didn’t

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t own supernatural or characters

———/1  
“I’ll see you up after school, Sammy.” Nine year old Dean promised his little brother. 

“Okay, Dean.” Sam was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in nervous anticipation. 

Dean had been leaving Sam to go to school for years and he was excited to finally see what all the fuss was about.

Dean let him go from a hug and lightly pushed him towards the door with a wave. 

As soon as he approached the room the teacher, a petite woman with large eyes, immediately honed in on him from her position at the side of the door. 

“Hey there, Sammy! I’m Ms. Brown. Ready to have a bucket load of fun?” Something inside him irked. 

He wasn’t sure what it was. All he knew was there was something about this Ms. Brown that he didn’t like. 

The day went fine. He avoided Ms. Brown as much as he could. They colored and worked on writing their names. Dean had already taught him, so Sam was a little disappointed that he didn’t get to learn something cool like Dean did. He would come home with facts about Dinosaurs and volcanos that he had learned. Sam was stuck tracing letters.

When Dean came to get him, signaling the school day finally over, Sam ran over and threw his arms around him. 

“Woah!” Dean returned his hug. “Did you have fun, Sammy?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Sam shrugged as Dean led him out the school. 

“You guess?” Dean asked, holding Sam’s hand as the boarded the city bus to head back to the motel. Dad was working, but he would be back tonight, he had promised. “What does that mean?” 

Sam shrugged again. “I don’t like my teacher.” 

“She mean? Did she yell at you? Smell weird?” Sam thought about it.

“No. I don’t know. Just didn’t like her.” Sam scrunched his nose and put his five year old brain to full capacity. 

“Well, once Dad’s done with this job we’ll hit the road and you’ll have a new teacher.” Dean ruffled his hair with a smile. 

The rest of the night went by normal, but instead of watching tv or Dean reading to him, Sam spent the night racking his brain to find out what was wrong with Ms. Brown. 

It was after their dad had got back did it finally hit him. 

“Hey Sammy,” Dad greeted. “How was school?” 

Sammy. That’s what the teacher had called him. That’s what gave him that itchy feeling. 

Sam was formulating a plan. 

The next day when Ms. Brown greeted him with a big smile and a, “Hi Sammy, ready for some fun?”

Sam mustered his courage and set her with the the sternest look he had. The one he had spent last night working on in the bathroom mirror. 

“It’s Sam.” And with that he marched his way in the classroom, leaving a surprised Ms. Brown in his wake. 

——————/2

Sam had the same look on his face now. The one he had practiced in the mirror five years prior. Now it was perfected. 

He had dropped the puppy dog eyes Dean had swore could get him anything. They had not worked on this man who was younger then his father. 

As soon as Sam had been separated from his brother and had come to the terms that his sweet innocent look was getting him no where, he had resulted to stony silence. 

“Sammy,” Tim pressed. “This is a safe place. I can’t help you if you don’t help me. Do you understand?” 

Sam answered him as he had previously, a withering look and a bitten tongue. He tasted the faint taste of blood in his mouth from where he had sunken in his teeth in frustration.

“Sammy, do you feel safe at home? Happy?” Sam didn’t know what this man wanted from him. Tim had insisted he wanted the truth, but Sam had a feeling he wanted a particular answer, true or not. 

“It’s Sam.” Were the only words he gave him. 

“Sam,” but Sam had stopped listening now. He kept his stare on the man’s face, but turned his ears off. 

Yelling from outside caught his attention. Then a woman entered the room looking red in the face. 

“Mr. Anderson,” she said, a little breathless too. “Mr. Winchester is outside.” 

“Dad?” Sam perked up. Dad was here and he would save them and take them home and Dean would be there. Everything was going to be fine now. 

“Sammy. Stay here, please.”

“It’s Sam.” He was ignored as Tim left the room. 

There was more yelling from outside before an angry looking Tim returned. 

“Sammy,” Tim knelt down to be eye level with him. “This is the last chance. Your Dad is outside.”

He took that as his invitation to leave so he stood up and went to leave. 

“It’s Sam.”

Tim grabbed his arm last minute. “Here is my card. If you ever need any help.” Sam looked into Tim’s pity filled gaze and ripped the card in two. 

“Sammy!” Dad wrapped him in a hug where Dean was already waiting. 

“Let’s go home, boys.” Dad led them to the impala.

——————-/3

Sam wasn’t a little kid anymore. He wasn’t. He was thirteen. He had shot up (was up to Dean’s chest now) and had lost his baby fat.

So he had a right to be a little mad when people insisted they treat him like he was two. 

Such as right now.

“Sam,” Dad said sternly. “Listen to your brother.” 

Sam huffed and kept his head buried in his book. Dad was leaving on a hunt. Dean was in charge and Sam wasn’t allowed to leave the motel room. 

“I’m not three.” Sam grumbled and looked at his dad through his hair. 

“Sam-“ Dad pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Sam could feel it rising in himself too. 

“No!” He snapped his book shut. “Dean doesn’t need to babysit me anymore. It’s embarrassing.“ 

“Samuel,” his dad’s voice was stern. “Those are the rules when I’m gone and you know it.”

“Rules you’ve had since I was three!” Sam was on his feet now. 

“Maybe if you stoped acting like a three year old, I wouldn’t have to treat you like one!” 

“Maybe if you acted like my dad instead of a drill Sargent!” 

“I don’t have time for this.” Dad shouldered his bag. “I’ve got a hunt. I’ll be back in two days. Listen to your brother.” And with that he was gone. 

Sam was left panting in anger. Dean came out of his room and gave him a look. 

“Dad leave?” He asked with raised eyebrows. 

“Obviously.” Sam blew his hair out of his eyes. 

“You look like a girl with all that hair.” Dean wore a teasing smile. “Want me to cut it or start calling you Samantha?” 

“Whatever, you call me that anyways.” Sam grabbed his book and stormed to his room -well the room he shared with Dean. 

“What d’ya want for supper?” His brother shouted after him. 

“I don’t need you to cook. I’m not a baby!” And with that Sam slammed the door shut. 

Fine. If his dad wanted him to act his age. Fine. Sam would do just that. 

He laid down on the bed with his book and lost himself in the pages. 

Later he found cold pizza on a plate outside his door. A stab of guilt hit his heart. It’s wasn’t Dean he was mad at, not this time anyway. 

He finished his pizza before he made his way to the living room where his brother was longing on the couch. 

“What are we watching?” Sam asked as he threw himself on the opposite side of the couch. 

“”Ox-Bow Incident”.” Dean said side-eying Sam. “You finish your book?”

“Nah, good stopping point.” Sam relaxed into the couch. 

When Dad came home Sam’s anger had chilled to an icy shut out towards him. 

“Hey Sammy, subs for dinner?” His dad had a paper bag not covered in grease stains in his hand. A peace offering. 

“It’s Sam.” He said shortly. Peace offering denied. For now. 

——————-/4

Sam was confused. Did he have it written on his face? A name tag he was unaware of? Did he just look the part?

He was a nineteen, self sufficient, college student. He was tall -taller than Dean when he had left, and he was lean. He didn’t understand what made people think it was okay to call him it. 

“Hey, Sammy!” Unknown guy number four -Danny?- waved at him as they passed in the dorm hallways. It had been four months and Sam was still learning names. 

“Sammy!” Bryan, his neighbor greeted as Sam ducked into the relative safety of his dorm room. 

Dean hadn’t even been around to start this crap. Where had everyone gotten the idea from? 

Sam needed to clear his head. His homework pile was as menacing as ever, but he couldn’t drag himself to sit down and do any of it. 

It was times like these he missed his family. If they were good at anything it was being distracting. He shoved that thought back down where it came from and he walked into the bar. 

The fake ID tucked into his duffle had been one Dean’s parting gifts. He had gone out with some guys and they had all been very impressed by the ‘craftsmanship’ of it. 

“My brother made it.” Sam had said before he even thought about it. As the questions came he had immediately shoved that thought away. 

Now he took a seat at the bar and got his drink. As he sipped it Brady and James came up to him. 

They chatted about classes and the one hot girl in the back of Mr. Watson’s room that was constantly blowing spit bubbles and then giggling to herself. Apparently she was high as a vampire on its first kill -Sam didn’t say this of course but he got the picture.

“Sammy-boy!” Derek, a couple years older then Sam, walked up to them. What Sam knew of him came mostly from the gossip that floated around. They were in college but everyone still spread information -true or not- like gossiping middle schoolers. What he had heard of this guy was nothing good. 

“You play?” Derek nodded to the pool table. 

“Nah.” Sam took a sip of his drink and kept his face neutral. 

“Why don’t we play a few. I’ll show you the ropes. Can’t get through college without learning.” 

“I know a little.” Sam shrugged. “Bare basics.” He was setting himself up to hustle. This was what he walked away from, but Derek’s too white smile pulled him towards it again. 

“Come on then.” Derek said and heading over. “Promise I’ll take it easy on you, Sammy.” 

Last straw. That age old irk itched it’s way back and Sam gave in to scratch at it. 

“I guess it couldn’t hurt.” 

He set his drink down and walked over to the table. 

He accepted the pole Derek handed him. Lined up and struck the balls. 

“Damn, Sammy.” Derek whistled. 

“It’s Sam.” They played and Sam got three hundred dollars out of the guy. 

His friends asked him where he learned how to play like that. All he could bring himself to do was smile. He’d call Dean later and they would have a good laugh, for now it was his secret. 

———————-/5

Sam was sure he loved Jess. He hadn’t had a lot of experience in the girl department, but knew what he felt was love. She was everything: smart, funny, beautiful, kind. She could always pull him out of a funk. She made it easier to be away from home. 

With all this in mind Sam could feel his patience waning. 

“You’ve been studying for days,” Jess was complaining. “It’s hotter then hell out there, let’s go get ice cream.”

“I’ve got to keep my grades up.” He said, keeping his head buried in his book. 

“But you’re just studying to study. You aren’t even focused on anything specific.” Jess wrapped her arms around him and rested her chin on top of his head. “Please, Sammy?”

Sam’s head snapped up so fast it sent Jess’ head flying backwards. Her lip was bleeding from where her teeth had been slammed into it. 

“Shit, Jess,” Sam stood. “I’m sorry.”   
He walked over to the kitchen and wetted a paper towel. 

“I know you hate that name, but jeez.” Jess teased but excepted the paper towel to dab at her cut. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“ Jess’ laughter cut him off. 

“It’s fine, Sam.” She checked to make sure the bleeding had stopped before kissing his cheek. “But if you really feel that bad you be can make it up to me with ice cream.” 

Sam couldn’t help a small smile. He laced his fingers with hers and let her drag him out the door. 

————-/1

Everything smelt of smoke. Everything felt too hot. Everything was too bright. 

She was gone. 

Pinned to the ceiling and burned alive. Like his mother. Like his nightmare. 

Sam had collapsed once they had made it a safe distance from the building. Well, he would have collapsed long before but his brother had dragged him on to safety. 

At first tears didn’t even come. It was just a blur, as if he was very far away. He felt like a stranger looking through a window. Disconnected. 

He felt his brother hugging him, warm and solid and alive. Suddenly he wanted to hear it more then anything. If only to drowned out the sound of sirens and a crumbling building behind them. 

“I’ve got you, Sammy. I’ve got you, little brother.” Dean promised into his hair line, as if reading Sam’s thoughts. “I’ve got you, Sammy.” 

That’s when it hit him. He allowed the crashing waves to drown him, if only for a little bit. He sobbed and shook. 

Dean held him through it all. Resting on his knees in the wet grass with his arms around him, rocking slightly back and forth. He continued to hush Sam and promise him he wasn’t leaving. 

He called him Sammy, and Sam didn’t correct him. He had complained about the nickname when Dean had first picked it up again, it had made him feel like the little kid he was trying so hard not to be. Now he embraced it. 

After some time his tears dried and the shaking lessened. Dean knew. His brother always knew. He stood, pulling Sam with him. 

“Come on, Sammy.” He led them to the impala. Sam hadn’t realized how much he had missed her until he had seen her again. 

Dean changed out the tapes, exchanged the blaring Metallica for the soft rock he knew put Sam to sleep. Sam wasn’t going to be getting any sleep, but the gesture soothed his too hot skin. 

His brother left the campus behind them. The smoldering building smoked in the rear view mirror. Four years away from this life, and that building was all he had to show for it. Well, that and the ache in his chest. 

“We’ll find the son of a bitch, Sammy.” Dean promised. “And dad.” 

Sam couldn’t muster up a half smile of gratitude for his brother, but he knew Dean felt it all the same. Dean knew him. The ache was threatening to swallow him whole, but it felt good to be Sammy again- at least to the only person who mattered now.


End file.
